Re: MJs Place: Harry/MJ
[Harry could be the king of whatever he wanted. MJ was presently so wound up in him, thoughts of Jason were few and far between, gone on a river of vodka, through reeds and away. Because, this wasn't Jason. The man she was leaning up against, the one that felt familiar and foreign all at once, whose skin smelled like reminiscence, and whose smile promised her things she had stopped dreaming of a long time ago—this man was Harry. She smiled at him as he grinned prettily.] I'll play basketball. We both know I'd beat you, [she said, teetering a step away so that the boy might be able to remove his shirt without giving her a poorly-timed bloody nose.—But, he hesitated, and she thought maybe he'd changed his mind. The cold clench in her belly was fear, and she almost started looking for an exit. But, then he was stretching, looking disgustingly cute, and she was so relieved. Like, so relieved. If she hadn't already been nearly naked, maybe she would stripped in celebration.
But, he said she could be skins, so MJ Watson would be skins. She took half a step back, her eyes snared on Harry's, and she lifted an arm behind her back. She undid the latches of her bra fluidly, with a minute snik! that could be heard under the music that still played in the living room. Slowly, she peeled the straps from the warm skin of her shoulders, then she let the thing fall to the floor. And, for the record, MJ had always had great tits. Round, full, with nipples dark and wide.—She let him look, if he wanted. She even preened under his gaze. Because, the girl was nothing if not an exhibitionist.—She slid her thumbs under the floss-thin straps of her thong then, hooked. She pulled the string from between her ass cheeks and tugged it over the curve of her ass, and dropped it too to the floor. Now, she stood, unashamed, in her full glory before her ex-boyfriend. Her skin was soft and smelled like coconut oil. Her legs were smooth. She was curves, thick thighs, and a neat waist. Her pussy was shaved, with lips darker than her skin.—She smiled and it was far from sweet.] I'll be skins then. [She pressed up to the boy then, lithe, and his arm went around her waist.
When he pulled her up, frothing to tiptoes, she laughed a little and smiled at him. His laugh, she could almost feel, and she already wanted to kiss him. When he positioned them in the corner, with the lights down to nothing, and the room small and dark around them, her breath caught, and she breathed it out against his throat as he whispered. The closeness and the tickle of his voice brought goosebumps to bare skin, and MJ made a soft sound of pleasure as Harry's mouth moved southward. She lifted her chin to the trail of his teeth, opening herself up to him. Her nipples hardened against his t-shirt, skins vs. shirts, and she smiled.] It's my club, [she reiterated, letting her hands graze down Harry's back and slip under cotton hem. She curled fingers over the lip of his jeans.] I think you could fuck me in the bathroom, killer, and they'd have to be okay with it. [Her eyes were bright in the darkness. She grinned cheekily, just before she pulled back enough to find that damn vodka bottle and take another drink. With the alcohol burning pure on her lips, she took herself to her toes, after setting vodka aside. She spoke against Harry's lips.] I promise not to scream, unless it's really, really good.